


Flawless

by NotToast



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Character Study, F/M, Flowers, Fluff, Implied Violence, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, More of a one-shot than anything else, Pre/Non-Despair AU, Strong Language, Whoops this is 4k+
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-03-11 03:56:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13516089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotToast/pseuds/NotToast
Summary: “She was aconite, a wolf's bane of grandeur beyond compare.”





	Flawless

**Author's Note:**

> After Peko injures herself on a job, Fuyuhiko is determined to help her within his limits.

Never completely silent in the Kuzuryu house were the long, winding hallways decorated with delicate light fixtures and restored paintings dating back to when yakuza was founded. Someone was always making rounds cleaning, training, on a business call; the tasks endlessly carried out by members with varying sleep schedules. If it weren’t for the large windows lining the many sunrooms and unnecessary “accents” his mother insisted on installing it’d be difficult to tell day and night apart.

Fuyuhiko often rose with the Sun, or a little while after. Sometimes a lot after. His bed was comfortable, albeit on days like these he could just slip directly into his pajamas if he wanted. It was Sunday and he wasn't planning on dragging Peko out of bed an hour before _her_ morning routine, which consisted of far more than what he was ever expected to do. Without fail she'd be up at 5:00 a.m. to start her day, tucking the single blanket she was given neatly under her futon and disappearing through the back to run and train. What she did afterward was dependent on what day it was and what everyone else's schedule looked like.

He fumbled through the hallway to grab a glass of water, the lights not offering much guidance being he was haphazardly awake. He’d never admit it, but he stayed up a good portion of the night waiting for Peko to get back from a job his father set her on to complete by herself. He wasn't sure when he'd fallen asleep, definitely sometime in the morning. 

_Did she even make it back last night?_

He slowly opened her door to see her room was empty, everything still preserved from when she tidied up the day before. It’s always organized, minimalist.

Turning back toward the kitchen, he groaned, shaking his arm out. It was stiff from him laying on it to keep tabs on his phone. She’d often send him a text with an apology or time if she was going to be running late from something. She started doing it when she realized it bothered him so much not hearing from her. He unlocked his phone again. A few texts from Natsumi begging him to turn the A/C down in the middle of the night, but nothing else.

When he got close he could hear Nobu talking to himself— no, he was on the phone with someone, though he wouldn’t be surprised. His voice was deep, echoing through part of the hallway.

Nobu Nakamura handled a big portion of the finances coming into the house. What went out was distributed mostly between Mr. and Mrs. Kuzuryu, so really Nobu was just a glorified brown-eyed bean counter who thinks he’s tough shit because he’s held more than 30 grand at once. Fuyuhiko had to stifle a laugh at the thought as he hurried over, snatching a glass from the cabinet left of the stove.

Nobu held his phone a few inches from his head. “Drinking so early in the morning? You _do_ realize that’s a whiskey glass right?” He scoffed smugly. He could hear the person on the other line roar with laughter.

_Wow, he really is a dumbass. How can anyone stand to talk to this guy?_

" Do you think I give a shit? I’m just trying to get some water, mind your business."

"Whoa, whoa! Calm down princess, _geez._" Nobu mumbled something into the phone and shoved it into his pocket.

_Great._

" Look, all I’m sayin’ is your pops is gonna wonder why his favorite whiskey glass is missing when he comes in for his morning coffee in erm— one hour?"

_He actually has a point._

Fuyuhiko hastily opened the cabinet and switched the glass out for another, the glasses inside trembling in response to how hard he closed it.

"Whatever."

"Yeah, you’re welcome sweetheart." Nobu smiled and rolled his eyes in the most mocking manner he could manage, fumbling with the zipper on his jacket as he leaned against the silver travertine counter in front of Fuyuhiko. He was taller, 6”1. A clean-cut 24-year-old with a mind of a fucking high schooler. Fuyuhiko had just turned 17. It was almost too easy to get pissed off at him considering they were near equal in maturity.

"Tch. Get out of my way, idiot." He snapped, scowling. "It’s too early for me to tolerate your nonsense."

"What’s got you so grumpy, little man? Didn’t count enough sheep?" He deliberately hesitated before stepping out of the way. "Or are you worried about Pekoyama?"

As infuriating as he was to talk to, he did read into people quite well. 

"She was supposed to be back last night okay? If she doesn’t turn up by sunrise I’m packing some shit and leaving to go find her. You better not tell anybody either."

Shoving his hands into his jacket pockets, Nobu just laughed and shook his head, shimmying toward his seat.

Fuyuhiko took a drink from his glass, sharp sound echoing through the dining area as he slammed it on the counter.

"What’s so funny about that, fuckhead?"

"Chill out sweetheart, you’re gonna give yourself an aneurysm." He shrugged, pulling out his phone. He started punching in a number, probably to call back whoever he was talking to before. 

"It’s just— you’re naive is all. Even I know not to go chasing after our _mutts_."

****

*

 

It wasn’t until long after sunrise and a lecture about getting needlessly physical with other members that Peko returned. Exhausted and bloody, she didn't receive much appreciation for her efforts per usual, especially since she came home late.

After profusely apologizing to Mr. Kuzuryu and handing off the money she collected to Nobu, she made her way posthaste to shower. Without drawing a lot of attention, Fuyuhiko caught her in the hallway. He looked down at his watch. 11:48 a.m.

"Hey, Peko— slow down, would ya?” He wanted to be able to talk to her without yelling across the hall."

She stopped and turned around, bowing.

"Yes, young master?"

As much as he hated it when she called him that, he wasn't going to dish anything out right now. She looked absolutely enervated. She needed to take a nap on something other than that flimsy futon.

She deserved a long nap on a thousand-count king, surrounded by pillows and all the stuffed animals he's noticed her attention lingering on when they've made pit stops at stores. From time to time he'd even seen her reaching out to touch them out of the corner of his eye as he'd grab a package of cookies and make his way toward the cash counter, unable to keep himself from smiling. Nearly every time it has happened he’s thought about buying her one, but he didn't want to imagine the hell that would ensue if by chance someone else found it.

He held onto moments like those. Seeing her face light up even for a moment was enough to put him in a good mood for hours, an image he could play in his head time and time again.

Her head was still bowed, glasses hanging from the curve of her ears. They looked as if they were about to fall off.

"Fuck— um, you can pick your head up.”"

She did just that, her eyes meeting with his. She had some blood smeared across her cheek, a rigid stroke from a paintbrush across an infallible canvas. He was unable to tell if it was hers or someone else's, but he had the urge to wipe it off.

He sighed as he tried to figure out how to ask her about yesterday without sounding like he was interrogating her. It was difficult for many reasons to talk to her sometimes. It wasn't always this way. When they were kids they could sit and chat for hours about anything. After she began to act more suitable for her role, it progressively got more laborious to have conversations with her until they were narrowed down to just about nothing. After many failed attempts at pushing her away, he wanted her to feel equal at the very least when they spoke now that they were adults.

"I uh.. how did it go last night?”"

She stood taller and paused for a moment. "It went well, sir." She replied.

He raised his voice a little. "Don't _bullshit_ me!" He couldn't help it when he knew she was giving him automated answers.

" You were supposed to be back yesterday! You didn't reach out at all! What gives?"

_Real smooth, asshole._

He was desperately trying to be patient despite how much sleep he had gotten, while also remaining mindful of the fact that she probably didn’t get any at all. He fidgeted with one of the gold rings on his hand.

He wished he could have just gone with her.

She was silent for what felt like minutes. "I apologize, young master. I had to deal with several more men than I had originally anticipated. I am aware it is not an excuse—"

He grabbed her wrist. He wanted to tell her to take it easy and that he was just glad she made it back in one piece, and it was aggravating she couldn’t see that. It seemed like such a good idea, maybe it’d show her how serious he was.

She let him, wincing as pain shot straight from the base of her hand, scattering through her fingertips.

With regret he drew his back immediately. _Fuck, did I grab her that hard?_ " Oh my God Peko I’m so sorry, did I hurt you?"

"No sir, it is a small injury. Please do not concern yourself with it." She flexed her thin, long fingers and slowly clenched them to recover from the shock of being touched. Her knuckles were rashed and her index finger didn’t curl with the rest of her hand. It dawned on him as to why she didn’t text him last night— it was clear as day she’d at least fractured it. Judging by her reaction she most likely hurt her wrist too.

They frowned at each other. Mr. Kuzuryu reminded her time and time again that she would be replaced in a heartbeat if she was ever rendered unable to perform her jobs. The pain wouldn’t stop there if his parents found out. They’d see it as a weakness, that she had messed up somehow. Broken hand or not they’d probably find some reason to pit blame on her and punish her for it, so he didn’t blame her for not mentioning it.

"Just go ahead and shower. You look terrible."

_Good one._

" Thank you, young master. I will not take long."

Unphased by his statement she turned back and walked away. All he could do was watch, longing for the day she stopped tolerating it.

****

*

****

The family’s greenhouse sat off to the side of their garden with more windows than wallspace. Overhanging trees grazed the gutter on the roof as eastern winds blew in.

He knew she’d be there. Sundays were lazy for a good portion of the clan. Most work was done in house by servants. Peko was technically a hit-man and was trained all her life to work under Fuyuhiko’s hand, but Mrs. Kuzuryu had always delegated a strenuous amount of responsibility to Peko as part of her payment for being able to stay with them. However he was glad she tended to the greenhouse on Sundays, because he knew how much she loved flowers.

A wave of humidity crashed into him as he opened the door, albeit it was only about 73F outside, so it was bearable. The greenhouse was rather large and meticulously organized, sorted by size, color and whether or not they were fruits, vegetables or plants considered of worth. They lined the walls, rows of them assorted with thought. The whole room was still, welcoming and fragrant.

She was shaping the orchids, her shanai laying against the shelf they sat on. She had to bend a little to reach one toward the ground. He was unsure if she’d noticed him yet, or when he started admiring her, even if she _was_ wearing what could be best described as gardening attire. Light brown pants hugged her figure and flared out a bit at the bottom, with several pockets intended to carry tools. Tucked into them neatly was a plain black tank.

Crouching down to reach the shelf second to the ground, she set the small clippers down to flip her hair back, careful to avoid using her right hand. The long, silver strands she had just pushed back frustratingly fell straight over her shoulder again, hanging just over the plant she was tending to.

_Adorable._

She sighed and stared at the sheers for a moment before getting up, turning his direction. The room suddenly didn’t feel so spacious anymore.

"Can I help you with something, young master?" She bowed, unwavering. It made him tense every time she did it. He knew she couldn't help it, but she could stand to be herself around him when they were alone.

"Shit, how long did you know I was here?"

Peko picked her head up. I noticed as you walked through the door. "I wasn't sure if you were looking for me, so I waited until you were close enough to ask." Wanting to present herself well, she adjusted a spot in her top that had creased from being crouched over.

 _God, how does she look so good?_ He kicked himself for asking, but amongst all of the gladioli and carnations, to him she was the most beautiful thing in the room. He didn't remember a time he didn't think she was pretty. He just couldn't pinpoint when it began to fluster him.

"Is there anything I can assist you with, sir?" She asked again, raising her brow as she smoothed the rest of her top out. Her eyes were an amaryllis against a sunset, a strong contrast at odds with her porcelain skin.

He didn't want to admit that he didn't have a reason to be there so he blurted out the first thing that came to his mind:

"No— I don’t need your help with _anything_. Natsumi was being annoying so I seeked refuge here, what else?" He hoped they didn't run into each other any time soon or his cover would be blown.

" I apologize for questioning you more than once Young Master, please forgive me."

"You’re fine, it’s just.." After watching her push her hair back again, words started spilling out of his mouth. "I want to do something for you."

She paused.

"Do.. something for me?" Concern plastered her face, brow furrowed.

Before she was told it was inappropriate to do so she expressed that she never liked having her hair down. She complained that it got in her face and it was rather distracting. Since then she always wore it in two uniform braids, tied up high and behind her ears with a pair of long white ribbons he gave her in response to that complaint. As sharp as it looked, it complimented the fringe that framed her face.

It was an absurd urge. Although he used to braid Natsumi's hair when they were little, she started doing it herself when she was eleven. Not that he'd forgotten how to, but he wasn't sure if he could make them look as neat as Peko did.

"You have to say you'll let me before I tell you." He piped, laughing nervously. He waved his hand in front of himself playfully. It was the best way he could ensure she didn't think he was just barking orders.

"Of course sir, anything you would like—"

"Alright!" With an unrestrained grin, he made the motion for her to turn around, snapping his fingers a few times.

Peko looked at him for a second and slowly turned around. She was aware that he didn't have any callous intentions, however his request caught her off guard.

"..Alright." She said slowly as she stared at some immature begonias a few tables down.

 _Wow, this isn't going to work._ Being profoundly shorter than her and his arm still aching from laying on it all night, it would be difficult to properly style anything. His eyes dropped to the floor. It wasn't _too_ dirty, he could probably just dust himself off to prevent having questions flung at him as to why his suit was messy. He was more worried if she’d mind.

" Would you mind sitting down?"

"Not at all."

Her body gracefully collapsed, arms melting into her crossed legs. Her gaze was still fixed on the begonias. They were peardrops, expected to blossom by next week. They had to be close to her favorites, rupturing with warm colors that made her think of kendo, her classes often being held a few hours before dusk.

Oregold rays from the afternoon Sun snuck into the greenhouse as each plant now cast a shadow. They warmed them both, but it was incomparable to the warmth that flooded his chest as he kneeled down. He really hoped she brought her ribbons with her. He could just ask, but the words convened within his throat. It was almost hard to breathe.

_Dammit, why is this so weird? Stop being such a bitch!_

If he recalled correctly all he had to do was break the hair into three parts, alternating overlapping the left and right parts toward the middle until there was no more to work with. Simple enough, right? There was no way he was about to try and replicate what she does. It was dumbfounding how even she managed to get them day after day.

He swallowed, hard, finally finding some words.

"Those flowers you keep looking at, what are they called?" Maybe it would make things easier if he made small talk.

It didn't.

 _Holy fuck— her hair's so soft!_ Nervous and clumsy he ran his fingers through it to get any tangles out, watching as they glided through, unsullied and sound. There was nothing more important in that moment. Nothing more important than her.

Peko hesitated.

"Peardrop begonias sir, although they are not in full bloom yet."

Her attention was locked on them, her body inelastic as if the greenhouse would crumble if she relaxed. He was just as stiff, working his hands toward the front of her head to grab any remnants of hair that strayed from her shoulders. He could smell the shampoo she used earlier. He didn't recognize it, but it was sweet and inviting. Natsumi must've let her use some of hers, since it was far from resembling the unscented shampoo Mr. Kuzuryu has the less respected clan members pick up for themselves. Maybe he’ll ask her when she’s done.

_No, then she’d know you were smelling her hair._

Or he could ask Natsumi.

_No! Then Natsumi would know! Damn!_

" Are they your favorites?" He asked as he began to section off her hair. He realized he doesn't ask her many questions about what she likes. He remembers a lot and picks up what he can, but she knew far more about him than he did her. It may have been small talk, but he was legitimately curious.

 _What_ ** _was_** _her favorite flower? Her favorite color? Her favorite animal? What kind of music does she like?_ _What does she think about working in the greenhouse on Sundays? What was her favorite day?_

He had a billion things he wanted to ask her.

Silence. _She probably has to think about it._

It pained him to think that was the reason, though it was absolutely correct.

She finally spoke. "No. I do love them, however magnolias are my favorite."

_Huh, interesting._

As he separated the left and right sections, he felt her tense up as his hands inadvertently brushed across her shoulders. It was such a quick and subtle interaction, but it ignited a flame that seared straight through his spine as he felt his face starting to flush. Ignoring it, he began to lace her hair together, a silk puzzle, a restless sea of silver highlights, smooth as petals after a good rain.

"Magnolias are nice." They were simple, but he could see the appeal in them. "Hand me a ribbon." It came out a bit more abrupt than he would've liked.

"Yes sir." She reached into one of the many pockets in her pants and pulled out a ribbon. After all these years, it was still vibrantly white. He took it from her and started to tie the ends of her hair together with it.

Peko sat patiently, finally allowing herself to relax. Her back ached from being so tense.

He had knotted the ribbon into a bow. It hung alluringly down the middle of her back. He did a better job than he had originally thought. _Perfect,_ while he was at it, he should probably make sure her fringe wasn't out of place. He stood up and circled around her.

" Thank you." She was about to stand up with him when he placed his hand on the top of her head.

_Oh, how the tables have turned._

He almost laughed at his own terrible joke, but he refused to repeat it to her. Maybe in another time, much later, when things weren't so complicated. Maybe they'd always be complicated. It just wasn't the right time.

After unskillfully plopping down in front of her and catching his balance, he felt his heart skip a beat as he realized her attention shifted from the begonias to him. The air suddenly felt stiffer, the greenhouse nearly silent if it weren't for their breathing. They used to sit like this all the time when they played games together or counted candy, but this was different. Their gazes met and it nearly struck him down.

"..May I?" He lifted his hand up, stopping before she gave him permission. He knew he could just do it without asking, that was the problem.

Stiffer than she was when they had sat down, she responded. "I'm sorry.. m-may you what, sir?" She seemed surprised. Her voice was small, fragile.

"I’d like to fix your bangs." A small collection of stray hairs must've escaped and swept away while he was braiding. _He_ was swept away. She was aconite, a wolf's bane of grandeur beyond compare. He could feel his heart pounding and almost wondered if she could hear it.

" Oh— Yes, of course." She blinked quickly, trying to distract herself.

He swallowed again as he smoothed the bangs above her eyes. He was unsure as to what he should do with the wisp of hair that caressed the side of her face, falling down and resting just next to her neck. He looked back up. Her eyes really were an amaryllis. She blinked again.

 _God, when did he start feeling this way around her?_ They used to be so _close_ . They are _so_ close, it was intoxicating.

He took the strands in his hand and spiraled them around his index finger. They were beautiful, side-by-side, silver and gold, an unbeatable chemistry. _He could tell her the joke he thought of a moment ago, or he could rub her shoulders for her— She was probably still sore from yesterday. He could just tell her she drives him absolutely mad. He could just kiss her._

His eyes flickered from the nape of her neck to her lips.

_Fuck, stop! Stop. She's already vulnerable, the last thing she needs is you coming onto her. But—_

His thoughts were interrupted when she spoke up.

"Um, it will be alright sir. I can tuck it behind my ears if it gets in the way. You do not have to " Her voice was unsteady and soft, face roseate.

_Undeniably beautiful._

He would do anything for her. She deserved the universe. She was flawless.

"Right." It kept its shape as he unraveled it from his finger, floating over in slow motion to gently caress her face. _God. He had to say something._

" I.. Peko—" He instituted before the doors to the greenhouse flung open, a very conquerous Natsumi proudly marching through yelling about a deal she had closed, cutting through all stillness within a mile radius.

 

 _Maybe in another time, much_ _later._

_When things aren't so complicated._

**Author's Note:**

> It feels rather cutscene, but I originally intended for this HC to be 800 words or so. Finding a balance is forever a work in progress. Thanks for reading!


End file.
